In 1957, I was two years old. My parents and I lived on the third floor of the Stonestown Apts on Buckingham Way. My dad was at work downtown and my mother and I were at home when the earthquake hit. My mother told me that I asked her if that was the painters? I guess the building had been painted recently and the painters make noise and hit the building with the scaffolds.

My mother, so as not to frighten me said, yes, that's the painters. Then she scooped me up and we descended two flights of stairs and huddled in the car until she felt it was safe return to the apartment.